'Out of Shape'

Stephanie is a runner. I am not. I should have remembered that distinction when she told me she was 'out of shape.'

Definition of Stephanie, the RUNNER:
She has run in multiple marathons. She qualified for the Boston Marathon in 2006. Two weeks after she ran that race, she pushed me along during my second half marathon. She ran in a half marathon while she was pregnant during her second trimester. Walking during a race is admonishing to her, and she loves the feeling of passing people while she runs the course. She looks forward to reading Runner's World every month, trying their recipes and practicing their tips.

I recognize that those are intense standards by which to determine whether someone is a runner. By those standards, most people who run may never actually be classified as a runner, as it takes constant training, skill, and a certain mania to actually run fast enough during a marathon to qualify for Boston. However, when I say I am not a runner, I am not using those standards to make the judgment. I am using reality.

I completed my last race (prior to the Celtic Soltice) in April 2007, a half marathon with most of my college friends (to whom I refer as the Great Eight) in Nashville. I signed up to run the Nike Half Marathon in New York City that same year in August, figuring I would just continue to train from where I was. Even with a paid commitment to participate, I couldn't muster up enough motivation to train seriously, and I talked myself into painful knees as a viable excuse for my laziness. Sometime in July of 2007 was the last time I laced up and ran for a reason other than avoiding a missed train or plane.

I have thought about running. I went so far as to keep my running shoes outside of storage. The shoes and gear even made the cut to come to Florida for six months. But I never wore them, and I even managed to leave them behind when I returned north.

When I arrived in Baltimore, Stephanie told me that she was out of shape. In the prior three or four months, she said she hadn't run more than a couple of miles at a time and it wasn't a common occurrence. Sure, it hadn't been 18 months (or even close) since the last time she ran, but her body had been through a lot more than mine. She convinced me that we might be on a close(r) playing field now if we ran together.

HA! We both overestimated where I would be when I started running again. Everyone knows you don't just magically fall back into shape after 18 months of sitting on your ass, eating horrible diets, and justifying a mile walk at a 22 minute pace as exercise every couple of days. My heart hadn't done an aerobic workout in over a year and it was paying me back for my slothful behavior. Out of shape I am, and to think about what it will take to run 10 miles in April is painful. It's a good thing I have Stephanie with me.

Today's Run:
Time: 22 minutes
Place: Parents' Treadmill
Distance: 2 miles
Feeling: Not fun at all (why did I think this would be easier?)
Overall grade: D